


Moonlit

by fleetkeys



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, Smut, Smut ???, that's all i got idk, there's that, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetkeys/pseuds/fleetkeys
Summary: A realization about Guzma's past brings his actions into a new light. Filled with regret, you seek him out to try and quell the guilt that plagues you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I've done in a LONG time. First smut ever. There ya go. Have at it, ya horny lil munchkins.

It all makes sense. You knew that house on Route 2 felt … off. The way the old man spoke about his son. The dents and scuffs on the golf clubs that couldn’t have possibly come from golfing. And Guzma … How could you miss it? His hairline trigger, his self accusatory mantra, his obsession with proving himself. You had all of the pieces of the puzzle, you just needed to put them all together. A wave of guilt washed over you. Quickening your pace, you clap your face between your hands and shake your head. No. You shouldn’t feel guilt over stopping him, over putting an end to Team Skull. They were deplorable. They were Pokémon thieves. For god’s sake, he and his little gang of punks took over a previously inhabited town and completely destroyed it! Displacing hundreds of people and Pokémon alike, ruining their homes. No, the guilt came from somewhere else. It came from how you spoke to him. It came from how you treated him. Your anger carried you above and beyond the understandable level of disdain expected when interacting with the boss of a criminal organization. You spoke to him like he was trash. Less than dirt. Like how his father must have spoken to him when he was a boy.

You hang your head and press on. You had to be getting close. Tracking down Plumeria was not an easy task, and getting the location of Guzma’s whereabouts was even harder. She was angry you would even try to find him. To even try and speak with him. She had good reason to be angry. She was the ‘big sister’ of the gang, and that extended to Guzma. Still, she could tell you were bordering on desperate to find him, so she caved and finally told you where he was.

“It isn’t like you could possibly do any more damage to him.”

Her words bit into you, spurring you into immediate action. He was in a lone house somewhere on Route 17, not to far from Po Town. You didn’t know what you were going to do when you got there. You didn’t know what you were going to say. Every time you tried to make a plan of action, your mind went blank. You couldn’t breathe right. Still, your feet carried you forward, ever closer to your destination.

A soft rain begins to fall. Looking up, you see a porch light on amongst the trees around where Plumeria said he should be. Ducking your head, you hurry to the doorstep, trying to get out of the rain. You only manage to climb the first step before all courage leaves you. You were stuck in place, just outside the cover of the porch. The rain fell harder, beginning to soak your hair and clothes. It was a warm rain. Turning your face upwards towards the sky, you try to calm yourself. Bringing your face forward and taking a deep breath, you climb the rest of the stairs and knock on the door before you have time to think.

The door opens. Guzma looks down at you, a wet rat of a girl, turning up on his doorstep without notice. The surprise on his face quickly turned to anger. He opened his mouth to shout at you, but the words would never leave his mouth. Just before he could spew his justified anger at you, your body acted on it’s own. You almost threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his thick torso in a tight embrace. Caught completely off guard, Guzma froze. Your face was buried in his chest, breathing in his scent. He was warm, and smelled like cigarettes and coffee. You slowly raised your eyes to peer up at him. He looked down at you, his face betraying shock and confusion.

“I met your father.”

You felt his body stiffen, you feel his breath hitch, and then quicken. His face contorted with remembered pain. Remembered abuse. You buried your face into his shirt once more. You can feel tears welling in your eyes. You shut them, willing the lump in your throat away. All of the guilt that had been plaguing you came crashing down on your head. You held him tighter.

“I am so sorry.”

He seemed to understand what the apology was for, that you knew what he went through as a child. That you regretted using such harsh language against him in your few previous encounters. His arms slowly wrapped around you. Pulling you in closer, every curve of your slight form was flush with his. He curled his shoulders around yours, bringing his head to a rest in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, but it was slow, calm. His lips pressed against your sensitive skin, raising goosebumps on your flesh. You held each other for a time, the soft light of the full moon bathing you in a silver glow, the rain dampening the sounds of the world around you, creating a dream like haze you both inhabited.

Guzma pulled back slightly. He lifted your face from his chest with a gentle hand. Your eyes met, and for the first time there was no anger or hate in either. His grey eyes were soft. Tousled white hair fell just above them, further adding to the gentleness of his gaze. Looking back, you wouldn’t be able to remember who moved first. You wouldn’t be able to remember who closed the gap between your lips. But it didn’t matter. You were wrapped in his arms, pulled into a passionate kiss. He pulled away, cupping your face with one hand. The other grasped yours, beginning to lead you inside.

You followed him into the dimly lit room. It was a small house, just one main room holding the bed, sofa, and kitchen. The only light was coming in through the windows, as soft and dreamy as when you were on his porch. There were no signs of anything that he had in his room back in the mansion in Po Town. No signs of Team Skull anywhere, no signs of his most recent ‘failure’. Even his previously ever present hoodie was absent. Turning to face you, he leaned down to close the space between your lips once again. His kiss was soft, gentle, wanting. A side of him you never expected to exist, let alone experience first hand. His hands cupped your head, thumbs stroking the sides of your face. You reached up to entwine your fingers through his soft hair, bringing him in ever closer and deepening your kiss. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue access to your mouth. 

Guzma broke the kiss. You were left panting slightly, and watched as he pulled off his shirt. The moonlight just illuminated his toned form. He reached for you again, this time nuzzling your neck with a peppering of soft kisses, the occasional nip. Tilting your head back, you made more room for his mouth to explore. Your eyes shut, and an almost inaudible moan escaped your lips. He must have heard, because the kisses he was planting on your neck became almost desperate. His nips became more frequent, and he suckled the skin he had grazed with his teeth. Pressing your body against his, you could feel the growing hardness between his legs. You wrapped your arms around the small of his back, pulling him closer, grinding into his hardening cock. Groaning, his hands made their way to the hem of your shirt, fingers playing with the small amount of exposed skin he found there. You broke away from his wandering hands and mouth, pulling your shirt over your head. The lack of a bra left your torso as naked as his. Guzma’s eyes ran over your newly exposed form, an action that seemed almost reverent. You were locked together again, your mouths caught up with each other, barely leaving room for breath. Guzma’s hands ran down your naked back, sending chills through your body. They found their way to  your chest, his large, calloused hands massaging your breasts eagerly. His thumbs made circles around your nipples, quickly hardening them, coaxing a deep moan from you.

You were so dizzy, so light headed from want, you thought your were losing your grip on consciousness when you felt your feet leave the ground. Guzma had taken you into his arms, carrying you across the room to his untidy bed. He laid you down on top of the mess of sheets and pillows, and finished disrobing. You followed suit, the fire burning in the pit of your stomach spurring you forward.

His naked form was on top of you just as you had pulled off the last of your clothing. One hand cupped your face, bringing it to his for a deep kiss. You were caught off guard with how gentle it was, especially when not moments ago you were locked in a heated, desperate embrace. His other hand traced down your body, resting on your sex. He paused the kiss, looking down at you questioningly. You ran your fingers through his hair, and pulled him back down into the kiss as an answer. His thick, rough fingers ran up and down the outer lips of you. Moaning into his mouth, attempting to goad him on, you felt the fire in your stomach flare.  He slowly parted your lips and slid a finger deep inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. Your lips parted in a sudden gasp, eyes flying open as he found your g-spot with practiced skill. His mouth once again found a home in the crook of your neck, leaving your mouth free to make the noises he seemed to so enjoy.

He slid another finger into your warmth, pumping and stroking moans of pleasure out of you. His other hand had made itself busy with your breast, playing with the sensitive nipple. Grinding your hips against his fingers, it wasn’t long before you lost yourself to orgasm. You sunk your nails into his back trying to steady yourself, eliciting a grunt of pleasure from him. Once you were finished and panting, he pulled his hand out and used it to aim his member towards your soaking opening. He once again looked deep into your eyes, asking permission to continue. You gave the same desperate answer..

He eased into you, his thickness filling you completely. Once fully sheathed, he paused, making sure you were acclimated. You pressed your forehead to his, softly kissing his lips, reassuring him and urging him to continue. He started off slow and deep, as if to savor the feel of you wrapped so tightly around him. You thrust your hips forward, meeting every thrust of his with one of your own, sending waves of pleasure through your body that made your head spin. He was so thick, so solid. Wrapping your legs around him, you arched into him, urging him to go deeper still. The pace quickened. His face was buried in your neck, hot breath coming in pants and moans. You lost yourself in him, the world around you melting away until he was the only thing left. Grinding your hips into his, you felt a familiar fire well up inside you. Your walls tightened around his cock, and his breathing because as erratic as yours. Pressing his forehead against yours, your eyes met as you both reached your climax.

The last surges of your joint orgasm quelled, and soft panting filled the room. He pulled out slowly, laying down beside you. Your eyes never left his. After a time, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close and nestling into your chest. Running your fingers through his hair, you soon heard soft snores coming from him. Smiling, you cuddled in closer to his sleeping form and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Your eyes fluttered open as the early morning sun filtered in through the trees outside. Guzma had rolled over in his sleep, his back now facing you. He was still deep in sleep. You carefully climb out of bed, and put your clothes back on. You look back on his sleeping form, a kind of melancholy welling up inside of you. You tore your eyes away from him, and let yourself out of his home.

* * *

He heard the door click shut. His eyes slowly opened, and he rolled over to face the spot where you had been only moments ago. Sad eyes traced over the small indent you left in the mattress, still warm from your body. He brought your pillow close, trying to hold onto your smell, your fleeting presence. He knew you had not intended that this be a lasting engagement. How could it be? You were the newly crowned champion of Alola, he and ex-con and former gang leader. Maybe one day, you would meet again under different circumstances. Maybe one day, you would share a night like the one before, and it would lead to something lasting. But not this time. Not today.

He buried his face into your pillow, letting your scent fill his world one last time.


End file.
